


knowledgeable ;

by therentyoupay



Series: knowledgeable [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4010998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therentyoupay/pseuds/therentyoupay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione briefly wonders if this is why Fred Weasley has taken such an interest in rattling her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	knowledgeable ;

**Author's Note:**

> _5/25/15_. Just a quick drabble :) This one is for a tumblr anon, who requested some fred/hermione. I'm accepting drabble requests on [tumblr](http://therentyoupay.tumblr.com/ask)!

 

 

**knowledgeable ;**

* * *

 

“I think he’s angry with me.”

It sounds petty even to her ears when she says it, but she is  _not_ wrong about this, so Hermione holds her ground.

“Blimey,” Ron mutters, and it’s so clear on his face that he’s wondering why they’re talking about this instead of focusing on Professional Quidditch, or finding dates to the Yule Ball (and she  _still_ won’t tell him, not even if he ever actually  _does_  get around to bother asking her if she’s got one—which she has, thank you, even she still doesn’t quite believe it herself, but—yes. Anyway.). The point is that Ron is clearly Not Interested, on so many various levels, and it’s only all the more clear when Ron grumbles, just a-little- _too_ -loudly for a Common Room conversation, “Fred teases everyone. Have you met him? If he were angry with you, you’d probably be sporting an awful rash or somethin’.  _I’d_ probably get hexed too, just for being friends with you. Do you actually know my brother at all?”

 _No_ , Hermione thinks, but falters. It wouldn’t be such an unreasonable answer, and the reason  _is_  obvious, she’d thought. What, generally speaking, would a sixth year want to do with a fourth year, except to antagonize them? Especially for a Weasley twin.  _Especially_ if that fourth year was a best friend of their youngest brother. Of course she wouldn’t bother to get to know them; Hermione takes great pride in her logic, as well as her self-preservation.

( _Viktor is a seventh year_ , says a little voice in the back of her mind, but she presses it into silence. She won’t think about these things in front of Ron or Harry.   
  
At least, not very much.)

“And how do you know it’s not George, anyway?” Ron demands suddenly, before Hermione has had a chance to speak. He seems skeptical.

With great difficulty, Hermione reluctantly fibs, “I don’t.  _But_ ,” she insists, “I’ve noticed that Fred tends to be the leader, whereas George often takes on more the role of a planner. He’s also often… more  _intentional_ with his remarks.” She has much more to say, enough that it’s nearly clawing itself out of her mouth—like it has been, for weeks—but this is the moment that Harry has looked up with interest from his meager attempts at an essay, and the words die cold in her throat. Ron is staring at her with a pinched expression on his face, one that most likely means he’s putting a great deal of stock into her words and quite possibly wondering if what she’s saying is true (it is) and, if so, why  _he’s_  never noticed before.

Hermione wonders how she is supposed to share that Fred also seems to be more impulsive—more  _perceptive—_ more likely to be brash. How is she supposed to explain her observations without making it seem as though she has been observinghim, when truly, it’s felt more and more over the last few weeks like  _he_ has been observing  _her?_

She briefly considers telling him about that one morning in the Great Hall, during the earliest start of breakfast—far earlier than either Ron or Harry had any reason to be awake. Hermione had been doing some reading along with her toast when Fred and George Weasley had settled themselves at the table seats directly across from her—no doubt to pester her—and had instead started a very intriguing,  _disconcerting_ series of questions regarding a number of rather complicated, dangerous, questionablepotion ingredients… and the possible side-effects of incorporating them into a chocolate bar. George had been taking notes, which both impressed and alarmed (flattered?) her, but what began as a principled argument soon deformed into a fascinating hypothetical discussion on the possible, ethical repercussions of mixing bat spleens and dried billywig stings (and  _heating_ them, no less) which—if truth be told—Hermione had not experienced the likes of which, well. Ever.

The debate grew rather heated, enough that George had outright paused his note-taking in favor of watching the two of them instead, and it was only after Fred had taken a deep breath, straightened himself in his seat, drily rolled off his tongue, “You certainly have a way of crushing a man’s dreams, Hermione,” and  _winked_ , that Hermione even realized that the argument was over, and further—that she’d won.

(Of  _course_ she had, but—well. Fred Weasley is really, very knowledgeable, as it turns out.)

They’d left not long after, leaving her alone to her reading and, thinking nothing of it, Hermione had said nothing of it to anyone.

But since then, truthfully, Hermione has had very little trouble telling them apart. She imagines that Fred and George have noticed this, have correctly assumed that her sharp mind has identified the pieces, has catalogued them, has memorized their ticks and the facial features and the very few mannerisms they haven’t yet learned to adopt from one another, has discovered and mapped out and privately marked the Weasley Twins in her mind.

Hermione briefly wonders if this is why Fred Weasley has taken such an interest in rattling her.

(The grins that spread just a little too wide, a little too sharp. Smiles that don’t reach Fred’s eyes, or look a little forced, or something equally ridiculous, because obviously Hermione is just seeing things, is just feeling the residual awkwardness of an interesting argument gone awry and forgotten.

But Hermione doesn’t think she’s imagining things when Fred and George sweep past she and Harry and Ron in the halls, when Fred offers only a barely-grating remark to his brother, but somehow manages to brush against her shoulder as he passes by. The way their fingers touch when he reaches out for a glass of water, and rather incidentally forces her to spill hers, but only when no one else is watching. The way he looks at her after a particularly cutting remark against the Slytherins—or Ron, or some unsuspecting first year—when the sarcastic, scathing words just hang in the air, along with the choked laughter of everyone else petty enough to laugh along with it, like he’s waiting for her righteousness to come flying out like a Howler, all winded and flushed and furious. She always refuses to give him the childish satisfaction, then blushes at her own righteousness; thinks that maybe Fred Weasley is even more clever than he lets on.)

“For the love of—give it a rest, Hermione. I can see you thinking about it. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t talk to you. The teasing just means you're family, okay?”

But Hermione wonders about that, too.

* * *

 


End file.
